


Worth It

by orphan_account



Series: The James/Mike Universe [1]
Category: Sorted (Website) RPF
Genre: Come Eating, Comeplay, Fluff and Angst, Friends to Lovers, Hand & Finger Kink, Hand Jobs, Light Choking, M/M, Oral Sex, Self-Esteem Issues, but that's for another time, everyone's bisexual because I'm in charge here, mentions of knife kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-11
Updated: 2018-09-11
Packaged: 2019-07-11 01:27:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,244
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15961775
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Mike is obsessed with James' hands, and James is just obsessed with Mike in general.





	Worth It

[[this video was the impetus for this fic, and is also just a great video]](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sXCcvPorJ9Q)

 

“You are ridiculous, you do know that?”

Mike cuts his own monologue for the Harry and Meghan wedding cake video short, firing what he hopes is an irritated look at James.

“You just interrupted a perfect take, you beast.”

He’s still got his Janice voice on, mostly just to make James laugh, and he’s thrilled when it works. James looks so lovely when he laughs: his eyes crinkle at the corners, his head ducks ever so slightly, and his normally neutral face lights up delightfully – Mike often goes out of his way to make James smile. To the point where the other lads (and literally everyone else in the office) have noticed, which would be embarrassing were it not for the fact that James is apparently oblivious, no matter how many teasing hints the others give him. Mike’s not sure if James genuinely doesn’t know about his _massive_ crush, or if he’s just too nice to embarrass him about it – either way, Mike takes every chance to act like a teenager around the man. He eventually tears his gaze away and continues his voice-over.

When he’s finally done (Janice was particularly mouthy today), Mike takes off his headphones and leans back in his chair, cracking his neck. He saves the audio file and starts closing down everything on his computer and wrapping up the microphone, already thinking through how he’s going to edit it tomorrow. He most certainly needs to edit out the part about James being good with a knife – he’d felt himself going red talking about those hands with a steel blade, and he knows the boys saw it. It might be funny for some of the viewers, but it would destroy his sanity to parse through the footage for relevant clips. He could only handle so much.

Everything’s fine, until James wheels himself over in his chair, leans into Mike’s shoulder, and says, quite loudly, “I’m insulted you brought up a fondle in an Uber without giving me the chance to actually commit the act I’m accused of.”

Looking back on it, Mike realises he’s spent too much time around Ben, because his immediate response is to correct his grammar to, “The act of which I’m accused,” and it takes him a whole extra second to actually understand what James has just said. His mouth goes a little dry, and his pulse skyrockets, so loud in his ears he barely hears Jamie pissing himself laughing at his desk. James nudges him jovially with an elbow and wheels himself away again, leaving Mike floundering. He finally regains some semblance of function and steals a glance at James – who’s already back at his computer and engrossed in work, teasing dickhead. Except the back of his neck is red, as are his ears, and Mike’s heart soars at the realisation that James is actually _blushing_ , how bloody cute is that. It makes him feel better, because at least he’s not the only one affected, but what does _that_ mean? Is James just blushing because he’s not as used to being dirty as the others, or because he’s not used to…flirting? Is that what that was? Certainly felt that way.

Realising he’s been staring (open-mouthed, how mortifying) at his friend for a solid minute now, Mike snaps back into focus and starts packing up his things. He needs to be out of here right now, needs to stop staring hungrily at one of his best mates – he _especially_ needs to stop watching James’ lovely fingers dancing over the keyboard, because that’s not helping anything. He’s about to escape when Jamie calls him over to his desk. He wanders over, resisting the urge to trail a hand over James’ shoulders on the way, or push his headphones off – ordinarily he does, just to annoy him, but that feels like dangerous territory today.

“What’s up, Jay?”

Jamie gestures for him to get closer, so Mike leans as close as humanly possible, pressing his ear right against Jamie’s mouth. Jamie retaliates by sticking his tongue out, effectively licking him, but Mike’s too used to it to even be disgusted anymore.

“You do realise that you’re totally in with James, right?”

Mike freezes. He feels panic starting to set in – James can totally hear them, what the fuck Jamie – until he remembers James has headphones on. Still, dick move.

“I am not ‘totally in,’ don’t be cruel.”

“You _are_ , you dickhead,” Jamie insists, grabbing Mike’s shirt collar as he tries to walk away,  “that man has major heart eyes for you. I know you saw his blush earlier.”

“James blushes all the time, that doesn’t mean anything.”

Jamie huffs a sigh, spinning his chair around to face Mike properly. “You only think he blushes all the time because he always blushes when he’s around _you_ , you twat. And we all saw him rush over to brush you down after you got icing sugar all over yourself in the video.”

Mike rolls his eyes. “That was _for the video_ , Jamie, you _know_ that.”

“What I _know_ ,” Jamie powers on, “is that James stares at you constantly, makes sarcastic little comments and immediately looks for your reaction, and uses any excuse to be close to you. What I _also_ know is that you do exactly the same thing, with the addition of creating a fake relationship between Janice and James just so you can talk about him more. So please, for the sake of everyone in the office, and for the sake of your own blue balls, just ask him out.”

Mike is, once again, speechless, and he’s almost certain James has heard them because Jamie didn’t bother at all to keep his voice down, but the redhead’s still staring firmly at his computer. He has no clue if James genuinely didn’t hear them or is pretending, but he’s pretty certain if he doesn’t ask James out right now then Jamie will do it for him, so.

Here goes nothing.

He doesn’t entirely know how he manages to make his legs work, but he gets himself over to James’ desk and puts a hand on the man’s shoulder. James pulls his headphones off and looks up at him, and their faces are close enough that Mike could really just lean down and steal a kiss, but wow, that would be rude as hell, so he takes a breath and asks, “Do you want to grab a beer?”

It’s incredibly gratifying, seeing the way James’ face lights up and reddens at the same time. He nods, more energetically that Mike’s used to seeing, and again Mike has to resist the urge to lean down and kiss him. He settles for a squeeze of his shoulder (his lovely soft, yet muscular shoulder), and grabs his bag from his desk. While James gathers his things, Jamie grins at him and gives him the most obvious thumbs-up in the world.

It later occurs to Mike that James never once asked if the other guys were coming – he was instantly on board to just be the two of them. Again, it’s incredibly gratifying.

When they get downstairs and out onto the street, the reality of what’s happening hits Mike. He’s just asked one of his best friends out completely off-the-cuff, with no plan on where to go or what to do. When he _does_ go on dates (on the admittedly rare occasion), he always has at least some plan. And now, on possibly the most important date of his life with the man he’s been in love with since the day Ben brought him to meet the boys at the pub, Mike has got fuck-all idea what to do.

Thankfully, James either doesn’t notice Mike’s internal self-flagellation or ignores it, because as soon as the door closes behind them, he asks, “Do you mind if we go to The Alexandra? It’s just ‘round the corner from my house, and I have a feeling after a couple of beers and the day we’ve had I’m going to crash hard.”

Mike agrees gratefully, and they start walking. It’s a short bus ride (during which Mike tries desperately to stop his hands from sweating quite so profusely), and on entering the pub James is greeted like a member of the family by the woman behind the bar. She rounds the counter and hugs him tightly, and Mike isn’t proud to admit he’s a little jealous of how warmly James hugs her back.

When they finally break apart, James puts a hand on Mike’s shoulder and introduces him to the woman, Jen.

“So _this_ is Mike,” she says, giving him a once-over that’s at once flattering and very confusing. The confusion dissipates a little, however, when Mike looks to James for clarification and sees a gorgeous blush spreading up from his neck to his cheeks. Mike bites his lip around a smile and remembers his manners.

“Nice to meet you, Jen.”

“Nice to finally meet you, too, Mike.” She winks, then re-situates herself behind the bar. While her back is turned, James grabs Mike’s arm and mutters, “Let’s find a table.” His breath is hot against Mike’s neck, and the blond nods emphatically – the combination of his warm hand and hot breath on his skin is going to make some form of cover a necessity _very_ soon. They find a spot nearby, close to the bar but away from the door, slightly tucked away. Mike’s never been to The Alexandra before but he knows it’s a favourite of James’, and he can see why. It’s all dark redwood inside, gentle lighting that’s not too bright but not too dim either, and the furniture is cosy without feeling contrived. It’s reasonably busy, it being knock-off time from work, but even with most of the tables full it doesn’t feel crowded, just comfortably atmospheric.

Of course, Mike might be biased, considering it’s the favourite pub of his favourite person.

Jen brings them over a jug of beer and two glasses, which Mike’s pretty sure they never ordered but he’s certainly not going to argue. James pours them both a glass and Mike takes the chance to look (he’s not _staring_ , okay, he’s just looking) at his face, his hair, his hands especially. He distinctly remembers the first day he’d met James at the Sorted offices, and had immediately looked at his left hand just to check he had a chance. He’d like to believe that’s where this weird hand thing he has started, with the relief of knowing that regardless of any other factors that might affect his chances with James, he at least wasn’t married.

He snaps out of his weird reverie when James plonks a full pint in front of him, and the two cheers to the fact that it’s Friday night, and the beer was free. When James puts his glass down again he licks the foam off his upper lip, and Mike knows he’s staring but he can’t help it. James surprises him by holding his gaze, rather than smiling awkwardly and looking away like he’d normally do, and oh God, now Mike’s heart is properly racing.

“Got much planned for the weekend?”

He struggles to keep his voice at a regular pitch, but thankfully James doesn’t notice (or at least pretends not to).

“Not a lot, really. I’ve got some cleaning that desperately needs doing, then some new recipes ideas to test out a little, but that’s about it. Not terribly exciting,” he trails off, taking another pull of his pint, licking his lip again, holding Mike’s gaze again.

Cruel.

“Hey, I can’t judge you, my to-do list begins and ends with doing the washing.”

James giggles (what the fuck how is he so cute) and they cheers to doing absolute fuck-all, and suddenly the conversation flows really easily. Mike’s pounding heart relaxes a little. He loses himself in just listening, and watching James be James – his favourite thing to do. They talk about work and football, and how James found this pub, and what sort of music Mike’s working on now, and the videos they’re working on next week, then they talk about football some more. Every so often James rubs a hand over his beard or toys with his pint glass and Mike finds himself staring, but he’s been doing this for about eight years now so there’s nothing out of the ordinary. It’s all great and lovely, and then, while on the topic of their wedding cake video for Harry and Meghan, Mike hears himself say, “I’m sorry about the Janice commentary, by the way.”

He’s definitely not.

“You’re definitely not.”

He shrugs, not bothering to argue. James chuckles, and his ears start reddening a little. Mike’s curious why, and it clearly shows on his face because James clears his throat and confesses, “It was pretty hard to get any work done while you were recording it.”

His ears are proper red now – Mike’s torn between having mercy on him and finding out just how far that gorgeous blush will go, but his kinder side wins out.

“It was hard to record it not only right next to you, but in front of the whole office.”

“Why’d you do it then?”

Mike’s heart stops for a second, and James rushes to explain.

“I mean, why me? You could have made a million jokes about the other two – especially Barry nearly setting himself on fire over those bananas! So why me?”

Mike’s hesitant to clarify, for obvious reasons.

“Well, we make jokes about Barry all the time, and if I’d even uttered the word ‘cute’ in relation to Ben the comments section would have lost its damn mind.”

James doesn’t look convinced. Mike caves.

“It’s because you _are_ cute, okay? The fans love you and want you in every video, so I figured I’d give them a little extra something. Voice of the people, I am.” He’s rambling now, he knows, but they’ve nearly finished two jugs of beer between them and those lovely green eyes are fixed on him, and he can’t seem to make his mouth stop. “And yeah, maybe I was projecting some of my own thoughts onto Janice’s monologue, but I honestly think it’ll be funny when it’s edited in. You know the fans love some good ship fuel.”

He knows he’s tipsy because he’s talking more and more with his hands (as if it wasn’t given away by that weird semi-confessional rant), and he’s about to launch into an explanation of just how _impossible_ it was to watch that video over and over again without commenting at least in some way about how stupidly adorable James is when the man in question reaches over, grabbing his gesticulating arms and holding them firmly down onto the table.

It’s a wonder Mike doesn’t jizz his pants right there.

“Mike, stop rambling. I wasn’t trying to interrogate you, I was just curious.”

And now Mike’s just exasperated, because even after all that James _still_ doesn’t seem to get it, so he bites the bullet.

“It’s because I like you.”

His words are a little slurred, from alcohol and adrenaline, but he knows James heard him because the hands still around his arms clench ever so slightly. He’s convinced he’s made the wrong move until he notices how pink James’ ears are, and realises that the hands haven’t moved at all. He takes a breath (in for a penny, in for a pound) and turns his own hands around so he’s holding James’ wrists too, and his right thumb presses gently into the artery of James’ left wrist, feeling the pulse run heavy and quick under his skin. He remembers hearing once that the thumb has its own pulse, which is why you shouldn’t use it to feel for someone else’s, and he’s got no idea if it’s James’ pulse or his own he’s feeling so he readjusts a little, sliding his hands down ‘til he can get his index finger against James’ wrist instead. It’s awkward and not at all subtle, and he’s very aware of the fact that his palms are now half-covering James’ palms, and his own palms are very sweaty, and he’s tempted to drop the whole thing until two things happen at once: James’ fingers curl gently around his hand, fingertips brushing teasingly against that sensitive skin, and Mike’s finger hits on James’ pulse. It’s pounding quickly, just like he felt before, and finally Mike looks up from the pale skin of James’ forearms to meet his eyes and finds them boring into his own, intense in a way Mike’s seen many times before, but never so close.

“It’s because I like you,” Mike says again, because he’s not really sure what else to say. His brain has short-circuited because James is holding his hands properly now and smiling at him, and his ears are still pink and so are his lips and Mike has no fucking clue what’s happening right now but he hopes it never stops.

“Good,” James squeezes his hands gently, rubbing a thumb over that sensitive skin on the back of his hand, “because I’m fucking crazy about you.”

 

* * *

 

They rushed off pretty quickly after that, still holding hands, and Jen had thrown a wink Mike’s way as they ducked outside. James wasn’t kidding when he’d said the pub was around the corner from his place – they’re barely walking for two minutes before they enter the foyer of an apartment block and start climbing the stairs. He only lives on the second floor so it’s not much of a hike, and before long James is trying to fit his key in the lock while Mike presses himself against his back, hands on his hips while he trails kisses over his neck. He’s half a head shorter than James, so he’s up on his toes to reach, and when James does finally get the door open they overbalance and go stumbling inside, Mike still clinging to his hips. They don’t go far – the apartment has a little foyer-slash-hallway thing to stop everyone being able to see right in, so it’s only a couple of steps before James hits the wall and Mike is (again) pressed up against his back. He kicks the door closed behind them while James spins around, and finally James grabs the back of Mike’s head and kisses him.

At the first touch of his lips, Mike instantly wonders why the hell he didn’t tell James how he felt sooner. Despite their hunger the kiss is gentle, exploratory, because they’re both acutely aware of the fact that they haven’t spoken enough about this, whatever ‘this’ is. They’re close friends and work colleagues – the whole situation is fraught – but as Mike feels James’ tongue run along his lower lip and relaxes, letting the man take control, the thought of pulling away is not only impossible, but damn near blasphemous. As James deepens the kiss he pulls Mike closer, his hands just above his arse, and he’d barely even realised he was hard until he feels Mike’s equally hard cock brush against his own. The blond moans against his mouth, arms clutching tighter where they’re wrapped around his neck, and James nips his bottom lip softly just to hear him moan again.

“Fuck, James,” Mike breathes against his lips, barely even aware he’s speaking, and the half-moan, half-growl the man emits in response is so fucking hot, so _animal_ that Mike genuinely feels light-headed. James pushes himself away from the wall and steers Mike into the apartment, bypassing the kitchen and sitting room and heading straight for the bedroom. He stops short of the bed, his hand still clutching Mike’s, and Mike knows they really do have to talk now. He rubs his thumb over the back of James’ hand, letting him speak first.

“This might be a bad idea.”

Mike’s heart sinks at that, but he’s not wrong. He loosens his grip on James’ hand, ready to pull away, but James holds tighter.

“It might be a bad idea, but I don’t think it is.”

When Mike meets his gaze he finds it steely and sure. It softens as Mike raises his eyebrows.

“It’s only a bad idea if we don’t plan on doing it again.”

It’s bold, and possibly stupid, but the look of sheer hope that blooms on James’ face makes it so, so worth it. He squeezes James’ hand again, cupping the other around the stubble on his cheek, and kisses him gently.

“For what it’s worth, I plan on doing this for as long as you’ll let me.”

James beams at him, letting go of his hand to wrap both arms around him again, and replies, “I plan on letting you for a long time yet.”

It wasn’t much of a conversation – there’s still so much they need to talk about, figure out, decide on – but it’s more than enough for now, because Mike’s brain can’t handle having an adult conversation while James has his hands on his arse and is kissing him like a man starved for years (which, Mike supposes, is exactly what he is, and isn’t that such an overwhelming thought). He lets thoughts of the future disappear, choosing instead to experience everything about right now in its entirety. If everything breaks down after tonight, if it turns out James doesn’t like him as much as he thought, or changes his mind, Mike at least wants this moment to be untainted. He wants to have James the way he’s wanted to since that first day he’d met him and immediately checked his left hand for a ring, the way he’s wanted to every day since then.

“You’re thinking. Stop it.”

Mike grins against James’ lips and whispers, “Okay,” before deepening the kiss. It’s different to earlier, in the hall, when he’d let James take over completely. Now he fights him a little for control, bites playfully at his skin, then licks it to soothe the pain. James clearly loves it, if the way he’s grinding their hips together is anything to go off, and Mike can feel his pulse pounding under his hand from where it’s cupping his jaw. Mike can’t tell if he’s just discovered his own pulse kink (is that even a thing?) or if there’s just something intoxicating about knowing that the outwardly composed man in his arms is actually just as worked up as himself, but he can’t stop himself from pressing a little tighter into his neck, feeling his jugular jump and thrum under his skin. He pulls his hand away like he’s been scalded when James gasps, but the man shakes his head, breathing heavily.

“It’s okay, that was good. Do it again.”

“Fuck,” Mike breathes, reaching up again. He presses his hand to James’ throat this time, so gently to begin with, but James leans a little against it and _oh_. Mike grips a little tighter, still gentle but more purposeful, and there’s this incredible moment when James opens his eyes and stares into Mike’s, pushes his throat harder against his hand, and _drags_ in a breath and Mike’s thumb is right against his jugular feeling how hard his blood is pumping. It’s makes Mike’s own blood pump directly to his cock, and his free hand is scrabbling to get the buttons of James’ shirt undone before he knows what he’s doing. James helps him out, and soon enough Mike’s got his hands on his pale, naked torso, finally able to touch what he’s longed to for years. He takes in everything: the way his collarbones dip and flow cleanly to his shoulders, the gorgeous definition of his arms, that tiny patch of hair in the middle of his chest, his lean yet muscular abs, the way his stomach pushes in and out, in and out with his heavy breathing. Mike touches all that he can, feeling every firm inch, cataloguing it all in his mind. When he finally gets down to the belt he looks up, silently checks in, finding dark eyes and flushed cheeks that blur with how quickly he’s nodding. Mike holds his gaze as he undoes the buckle, nimble fingers unbuttoning the jeans, deftly tucking under the waistband of James’ boxers. It’s only when he finally get a grasp of James’ dick he breaks eye contact and looks down, because –

“Holy shit, James. Where have you been hiding that?”

He’s jerking James’ fucking massive cock before he realises what he’s doing, unable to resist getting his hand around it, feeling how hot and weighty it is, toying with the foreskin. James laughs, blushing.

“The numbers of times I’ve seen you staring at my crotch, I’m surprised you never noticed.”

Now it’s Mike’s turn to blush.

“I guess I told myself it was wishful thinking. It’s not fair for someone as tall and radiant and stunning as you to _also_ have a massive knob, you know that?”

“Something tells me you’re not as upset as you’re making out.”

That _something_ is probably the fact that Mike’s pulled James’ dick fully out of his trousers and has been jerking it this whole time, running his thumb over the head with every upstroke. Mike shrugs – he can’t argue – and just asks, “Can I blow you?”

“What kind of question is that?”

It’s a typical sarcastic James remark, but Mike feels vindicated in the breathiness of his voice, the shudder he feels run through him. Mike steals a quick kiss before dropping to his knees, still playing with James’ cock, taking the gorgeous sight in. He hasn’t sucked anyone off in a while – nearly a year, actually, he’s only been able to pull women for a while for some reason – and this might be a challenge, but Mike’s no coward. He starts at the base, licking a fat stripe up the underside of his dick, flicking his tongue at the head the way he knows feels good. When he first gets his mouth around the head he thinks it’s going to be too much, his jaw is already stretched just from the tip, but as he drifts into the zoned-out, buzzy headspace he always gets when sucking dick everything relaxes. Soon he’s taking James right to the back of his throat, tongue working the underside as much as it can, lulled by the soft, blissful moans coming from above him, the mutterings of, “Fuck, you’re so good at that.” James has a hand in his hair and is gently scritching his scalp, sending tingles right throughout Mike’s body. He’s drooling everywhere (impossible not to, around a cock like that), and he probably looks an absolute mess but James keeps gazing down at him like he’s the most beautiful thing in the world, so he doesn’t give a shit. James puts a hand against his face, gently, and Mike angles his head so that the tip of James’ cock presses into his cheek, under James’ palm. James rubs his hand in circles against it, groaning, and Mike’s eyes drift closed happily.

Eventually, James’ hand starts gripping harder in his hair, and when he flicks his eyes up he mutters, “I’m close.” Mike carries on, keeping eye contact, and the sight of James clenching his eyes shut and his head dropping back when he comes is something Mike never wants to forget. He has to pull back a little until just the tip is in his mouth so he doesn’t choke, and he swallows greedily, cleaning James off thoroughly until the man shudders with sensitivity. He pulls him to his feet and kisses him, tongue chasing his own come in Mike’s mouth and it might just be the hottest thing ever. He never considered that James might be filthy but he _definitely_ is, and Mike loves it.

“You’re fucking incredible,” James mumbles against his lips, kissing him again before he can reply. Mike glows with the praise and the post-blowjob haze, hands exploring the defined muscles of James’ back.

He almost forgets about his own hard-on until James’ hand starts rubbing him through his jeans. He moans loudly, and even he’s surprised by how wanton he sounds. James starts undressing him while he lies him down on the bed, pulling his t-shirt over his head and gazing at him. Mike’s arms immediately go to cover his torso, but James seems to know what he’s about to do and grabs his arms, holding them by his sides.

“I want to look at you. If that’s okay.”

It’s not something Mike’s ever heard before, at least not with his shirt off, and ordinarily he’d be far too self-conscious in front of someone who looks like James. But the thing is, _it’s James_. It’s James, the sweetest, most compassionate, most wonderful person Mike knows. He wouldn’t steer him wrong, especially not like this. So Mike nods, keeping his hands palms-down on the bed, and lets himself be looked at.

James starts with his face, gently pinching Mike’s chin to lift his head and take him all in. It’s not like he hasn’t spend literally thousands of hours staring at this face, taking in every tiny detail, every crinkle of his eyes, every flick of his tongue against his lips, every flutter of his eyelashes. But to see it now, like this, flushed and warm and wrecked, his chin still wet and lips so deliciously red…

“You’re heavenly.”

Mike’s flush deepens, and again he wants desperately to cover himself, to hide away from the raw emotion on James’ face. It’s not something he’s used to – he’s used to a casual fuck, a cursory glance over his body before eyes either focus on his face or close completely, imagining someone else, somewhere else. He’s used to hard and fast, clothes coming off in the dark and being put back on in the dark, half an hour or so later. He’s used to being looked over.

He’s not used to being _seen_ like this.

James’ thumb trails over his jaw and down his neck, and Mike instinctively leans his head back against the pillow, giving him more to touch. James’ fingers are so delicate as they play over his skin, down his collarbones and chest, circling around his nipples. He smiles when Mike chases the touch, chest arching up from the mattress, and he tweaks a nipple lightly in response. The groan Mike emits is filthy, so much so that he claps a hand over his mouth in embarrassment, but James pulls it away again. He keeps his hand around his wrist, pressing it against the bed while his other hand toys with Mike’s nipple again; he’s got this wicked grin on his face while he watches Mike squirm. Mike bites his lip, trying not to make a sound, but then James pinches hard and it’s a lost cause. He cries out, hips bucking as the sharp pain travels down his spine and settles in his groin. James smooths his thumb over the abused skin, his other thumb rubbing into the sensitive skin of his inner wrist, and Mike’s losing his fucking mind. He’s so hard it’s painful, his jeans feel two sizes too tight, and watching James’ stupidly gorgeous hands toy with his nipples is making him feel like he’s about to explode.

“So lovely.”

Mike wants to scream, and he doesn’t know why. It’s all _so much_ , it’s too much and nowhere near enough all at once.

“And so _responsive_ ,” James continues, pinching a nipple again. Mike can’t hold in the gasp, can’t stop the way his hips buck up in search of some kind of friction. This time James mitigates the sting with his tongue, laving over the sore flesh, his beard scratching against Mike’s overly-sensitive skin. Mike’s actually losing his mind: not only does he finally have James’ hands over his skin but it turns out the man’s _proper filthy_ , and it’s almost too much for him.

Almost.

James finally moves on from his poor nipples, kissing down his stomach, letting his beard rub against his soft skin when he realises how it makes Mike squirm. He keeps his grip on Mike’s wrist when he feels his arm twitch, trying to cover himself again, and kisses his skin once more. Finally, _finally_ , he unbuttons Mike’s jeans, pulling his (frighteningly) hard cock out and wrapping a hand around it. That alone nearly does Mike in; the sight of James’ big, warm, long-fingered, veiny hand wrapped around his cock is something that’s only ever existed in his imagination, but the reality is so much better.

Because the thing is: James _really_ knows what he’s doing. It’s the best handjob Mike’s ever had (including from himself) and it’s probably going to last an embarrassingly short time, that’s how worked up he is. James’ thumb is doing sinful things to the head of his dick, playing with it like it’s the most fascinating thing he’s ever felt, while the rest of his hand is tight and hot and never stops moving over his shaft. Mike unconsciously winds a hand into his own hair, pulling a little in an attempt to mitigate how fucking good he feels right now. It doesn’t work at all, obviously, but he keeps it relatively together.

Until James’ other hand starts working on his balls.

Mike can barely even sputter out, “James, I’m gonna –” before he’s fuzzy all over, every nerve ending in his body alight and centred directly underneath James’ grasp. It’s the most intense orgasm Mike’s ever had, and it takes him an embarrassingly long time to come down from it. When he does, his vision clears to see James licking his jizz off his own hand. He nearly whites out again.

“Fucking Christ, James, are you trying to kill me?”

James just grins at him lazily, mouth closing around the tip of his index finger, and after a second he leans over Mike’s body and holds his hand out to him. Mike doesn’t hesitate, leaning up to suck James’ lovely fingers into his mouth, licking his own come off. It’s the filthiest thing he’s ever done, until James bends down and drags him into a kiss and then _that’s_ the filthiest thing, and it’s the most intimate at the same time. James stays down there long after he’s cleaned Mike up, his clean hand cupped around his jaw, the kiss now less urgent, less dirty.

It’s only when James lowers himself down onto Mike’s body that he realises just how incredible this moment is. He’s got James – gorgeous, kind, wonderfully sarcastic, ridiculously sexy James – literally on top of him, kissing him like he’s the most precious thing in the world. It’s perfect, feeling James’ body under his hands, being able to trail his fingers over the soft skin of his back, able to grab his arse and rub a foot against his bare calf.

“You are actually perfect, you know that?”

James buries his head into Mike’s neck, and Mike can feel him smiling. He runs his fingers through his hair, nipping gently at the pink tip of his ear and laughing as a hand comes up and swats at his cheek. James then turns his head so they’re face-to-face, and his expression is so blissful, so sweetly content that Mike wishes he could take a picture and carry it with him forever. Instead he just looks, he takes it all in; James’ gorgeous face, the feel of his body on Mike’s own, the way he smells after sex, the smell of his bed, the happy little sighs he lets out seemingly unintentionally.

Eventually James rolls off Mike so they’re lying side-by-side on the bed, and it’s that moment that sends Mike’s blissful high spirally downwards. He suddenly remembers everything that makes this a bad idea that’s unlikely to work out, every reason why James is never going to settle for him, every reason why James has definitely changed his mind and wants nothing to do with him anymore. He’s already steeling himself for James to start ushering him out when the man says, “We should go out. As in, be boyfriends.”

He clearly senses Mike’s confusion, because he sits up properly and looks down at him.

“I want you to be my boyfriend.”

Mike’s brain can’t even comprehend what he’s just heard, and it’s only when he heard James’ self-conscious addition of, “If you want…” that he snaps back to what’s happening.

“Yes!”

It’s a bit loud, a bit forceful, but the way James’ face shines means he can’t be embarrassed.

“James, that’s all I’ve wanted since the day I bloody met you.”

It’s incredibly corny, but totally true, and again he can’t be embarrassed because James is pulling him into another kiss, licking into his mouth like they have all the time in the world to do this, and that’s the best thing – they _do_. They have all the time in the world to spend nights like this together, to jerk each other off, to finally get around to James fucking him properly, to hold hands and go out for meals and introduce each other as “my boyfriend.”

Of course, this all means that Jamie was completely right, and that Mike will never, ever, _ever_ hear the end of it. But if being here with James for a long time yet means he has to put up with a boastful Jamie?

Worth it.

**Author's Note:**

> This turned out much longer than I expected, and I didn't even get to shoehorn some proper knife play in - ridiculous. I took some liberties with Mike's self-esteem issues regarding his body because the caring James who was out to play in the royals wedding cake video was so endearing that I had to include him somehow, and because so many comments make fun of Mike's weight when he's stunning no matter what.
> 
> Most of this was written and proof-read late at night, so if anything doesn't make sense, I'm not at all surprised.
> 
> Also, I fully intend to write a sequel/add a chapter to this that properly deals with knife kink, because I can and I want to. So if you want that, let me know (I'll probably write it regardless, but it's nice to know people would enjoy it)


End file.
